Angels on the Moon
by rosevioletsmile123
Summary: Drabbles and little oneshots of various pairings (het, slash, femmeslash), spanning multiple generations
1. Nightmares (RonHermione)

**Summary: Drabbles and little oneshots of various pairings (het, slash, femmeslash), spanning multiple generations**

**Nightmares**

Ron/Hermione

The woman stands over you, her long tendrils of hair like black snakes suffocating you as she puts her face so close to yours. Hatred burns in her dark, heavily lidded eyes, cold and turned upward at you in an expression of malignant joy. Spit sprays from her deep red lips as she snarls at you and you feel your entire being tremble in fear, even though you try to stay strong. You won't give in; doing so would mean certain death and agony for you and all those you care about. Those lips are stretched over yellowing teeth and her breath smells like decay with the faintest hint of blood. Perhaps worst of all are the spindly fingers on your arm, long nails digging into your skin harder as she asks you questions you refuse to answer. She asks you over and over and you cry out as her nails almost break skin and her wand is pointed dangerously at your head and then…. Then you wake up and Bellatrix Lestrange has vanished.

You're panting, you know, and your heart rate has sped up. You clutch your chest, unable to stop the tears that fall like raindrops and cannot wash away the pain. You're gasping and your eyes are red as your fiancé wakes up next to you, casting a concerned look in your direction. "Herm – Hermione?" he asks sleepily, though your sobs are slowly but surely waking him.

A new sob courses through your chest as he sits up sharply and you feel guilt at having awakened him. It's been years since the war and yet this continues to happen – why won't the nightmare leave you alone? Bellatrix did not die when her body did; she'd be happy to know the pain she inflicted continues to affect you so profusely. And you, who believes in logic and reason and level-headedness, knows that it was all a dream (rather a nightmare). But logic doesn't stop the tears from falling. Logic doesn't make her breath or her grip or your fear any less real.

His eyes meet yours and that's all he needs; he wraps his arms around your trembling frame. His embrace is warm, comforting, and you find yourself allowing him to hold you like you do every time this happens. "Shhhhh, Hermione," he says and his voice is low, a whisper in the darkness. "It's okay. She's not here; I am. She's gone; she can't hurt you anymore." As he runs his fingers soothingly through your hair, your shaking becomes less violent and you can form coherent sentences.

"I know; I'm sorry Ron, It's just that –"

"Hermione." He sighs your name into your hair and coming from him, it sounds like a blessing. "Don't apologize. Never apologize. What that bitch did to you –" His voice is almost a growl now and he tightens his embrace.

You know you shouldn't apologize. There's really nothing for you to feel guilty about; he's told you this before. "I hate that it still affects me," you admit. "I can feel her, hear her, and see her; she's never truly gone." You've had the nightmares for years now, though they've lessened over time. Every time you think you're over them, they return in horrifying clarity.

"I hate that it affects you, too. If I could've done something to stop it…" he trails off and you put a hand on his arm. His eyes meet yours once more and a message is passed on: _not your fault_. "I know. But Hermione, I don't think anyone would be over that and you're the strongest woman I know. Don't tell Ginny I said that," he says after a short pause and you can feel the nightmare's influence slowly fade away.

"Every time I think they're gone, she appears again," you say. "Every time, it's like she wins and I'm helpless."

"But you're not."

"I know. Most of the time I'm not." But for those brief few minutes of the nightmare you are and during those brief few minutes, all that matters is what happens _now_.

"We can't be in control all of the time," he says and from then on until daybreak, the both of you are silent. There's no need for words; the feeling of each other's presence will suffice.

_AN: So I decided to start off with one of my favorite pairings. Feel free to suggest any pairing you want (leave a review); I'll try to get to them all eventually and even if it's one I don't really like, I'll do my best to write it._


	2. Fractured (FredLee)

**Fractured**

Fred/Lee

He walks into the Hogs Head and the barman doesn't bat an eye before handing him the full mug. Of course, the mug never remains full for long; it is quickly emptied like he himself is. Hollow. He moves the cup to his lips sloppily and without thinking in a way that would suggest a puppeteer clumsily controlling the arms of a Marquette. He thinks that he is a puppet himself and the world is just one big puppet drama for the amusement of its bastard of a creator who makes the puppets laugh, cry, and die brutally just because he's that much of a sadist. And fall in love. We can't forget the love.

He tilts the mug now and quickly downs the liquid as it pours down the back of his throat, leaving a burning sensation and a tingling one that lingers for moments before he shouts for the barman to refill his glass. He's grateful for the burning; it's one of the only sensations that his body will feel anymore. Before the burning and the numbness were other feelings, but he's too drunk and too numb to try and remember them. Besides, remembering…. the numbness is always better, but it's like he's fallen into a dark hole and can't climb out.

_"Fred, you prat, why did you leave me?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Before the numbness and the burning brought on by the drinking, there was pain. It was pain so searing it cut across him like a hot blade, chopping him until every one of the pieces fell away and nothing was left.

It started with a whisper. "He's dead. Lee, he's gone and he's not coming back." At first he thinks it is a joke, but George has never been _that_ good of an actor. His voice is soft and he can tell that he is on the verge of crumbling into tiny pieces.

He feels a pull in his chest and that's where the pain starts. "The body. I need to see the body." Calling Fred _the body_ is strange and he would laugh at being referred to as such. Fred, so full of life, is the opposite of _the body_.

"The body," George repeats, trembling. "Lee, I don't think you want to see –" Half of that is him trying to protect him and the other half, he gathers, is him trying to protect himself. He's already seen it. A more searing pain shoots through his chest.

"I need to see it." His voice is firm now. "I have to – "

George places a hand on his shoulder and leads him down a hallway; he can't remember which one. All the hallways and doors and stairwells seem to bleed together and he can't discern one from another. Eventually, they reach a small classroom. "In there," George says, and then he walks away, leaving him to see whatever lurks behind the door.

Now that he's there, he doesn't want to go in. Seeing _the body_ would make it final. But then he hears Fred's voice in his head. _"C'mon Lee, aren't you supposed to be a Gryffindor? Not scared of a few ghosties, are you?"_ He opens the door and walks in quickly to get it over with.

He doesn't see Fred right away. He supposes that if Fred would be the main course of his meal of misery, then these are the appetizers. There are roughly fifteen bodies in the room, some of which he recognizes. Colin Creevey, Michael Corner, Rodger Davies…. His stomach twists into knots.

But then he sees _him_, right in the center of it all, and he has to grasp a wall to prevent himself from stumbling to the floor. He makes his way over to Fred, tumbling clumsily through the barrage of bodies. The dim light emanating from the window and shining on the body makes Fred look like an angel, though he knows the real man is anything but.

He drops to his knees in front of Fred and the pain shoots in sharp bolts from his chest to the tip of his toes as his entire world falls apart. He takes in the sight in front of him. Fred is still, almost as if he didn't want to get caught doing something. His lips are curved upward in a smile and his eyes are shut. Worst of all, his skin is as white as a sheet and beginning to turn the pale blue of death.

Shakily, he grabs Fred's hand, the hand that was always filled with such warmth. The coldness in the hand makes him led out a cry so loud he's sure George can hear it all the way wherever he is. The pain shakes his body and he collapses over Fred's form, the coldness of which makes him sob harder at the feeling of the body that was once so comforting and full of life.

He should've been there, should've been able to protect Fred. He hadn't been near George when it happened, had he? He certainly hadn't been near him, or he wouldn't be dead. As he sobs and the pain threatens to fracture his heart, he is able to let out one joke.

_"George isn't the holiest now, is he?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The last time he sees Fred is right before Fred and George leave for the battle. "We're going to fight," Fred says. "Gonna take down old Moldyshorts once and for all."

"Harry's returned?" he can barely hide his excitement. After months of hoping…

"Ginny says so; she says he's willing to fight. Hey, it's the opportunity we've been looking for and we're going to make it count."

"Gonna kick some Death Eater ass?"

"You know it. Think you can get more than me?" Fred's breath tickles his ear.

"With your spellwork? Definitely," he says. "You'd be lucky to get four; I could take down more easily."

"So, you coming?" Fred asks. "After all, it's not every day you see the Dark Lord get his ass handed to him by a teenager."

"I have to… I'll be there in a moment. Just have to get a few things," he says. George calls for Fred and they look at each other one last time. "Save a few for me? If you haven't destroyed them all."

"Any in particular you'd like?" George calls out for Fred once more and Fred shoots him a guilty look. "Gotta go."

"See ya, then," he says and he and Fred embrace so tightly he can feel the Weasley's heartbeat from beneath his thin shirt and can briefly smell his hair, which smells of dirt and grime and sweat from lack of shampoo usage.

They kiss for one last time and it is a kiss that he will remember for quite a while afterwards. In it is everything they cannot say; worries that they cannot speak. The words _stay safe_ and _don't die on me_ are implied. He wants it to last but George (the wanker) calls Fred once more and they pull away. Fred looks at him one more time before turning away and walking towards his brother. He knows that he himself will soon join the battle, but he has a couple things to attend to, such as his bladder. Can't fight a huge battle when you need to pee. He watches as the bright red hair of Fred and George disappears.

"_Se ya on the other side, Fred."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Before the pain was the love and the happiness, but soon those feelings will seem a distant memory. They were always friends, but they grow even closer to each other when on the run. From the moment Kingsley's patronus landed in the yard, they were constantly on the run, in a way. And when Death Eaters showed up to crash the party, the chase had begun.

They had started a radio broadcast to lift the spirits of everyone; it was his idea. Being a former Quidditch commentator, he knew how much of an impact words had on the masses. Fred had clapped his back and smiled at him and he knew that he would do anything to make his idea spring to fruition.

It had and many nights were spent in random shacks and various places scattered throughout the United Kingdom. They ate together, slept together, and more often it was Fred doing the broadcasts than George. So they spent time alone practicing and laughing in spite of the danger. Despite the fact that Fred had a brother missing and a sister at Hogwarts. Despite the fact that his own familial connections with the wizarding world were shaky at best.

The brothers were as close as ever, but Fred had been spending more time with just him and it was no surprise when one morning, they wake up with hangovers in the same bed (at Aunt Muriel's, no less). Embarrassment leads to talking, which leads to confessions, which leads to both of them sharing the same bed a few more times.

In the midst of a war, their relationship was one thing that wrought no fear from either of them. In the dark of the night, in Fred's embrace, he wonders where that relationship will go after the war.

_"I decided to write a poem, Lee: roses are red, violets are blue; war sucks, but you don't."_

_ "Bravo, Fred. Should I be swooning now? Hey Fred…?_

_ "Yeah?"_

_ "I think we're gonna do it. Beat You-Know-Who, keep from getting captured by Death Eaters..."_

_ "And is staying together on that list?" _

_ "Right after staying alive."_


	3. Ashes (JamesLily)

**Ashes**

James/Lily

_Ring around the rosie/pocket full of posies/ashes, ashes, we all fall down_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He was summer and she was autumn. He was laughter, jumping into pool on a hot day, watching fireflies and stars at night. She was red hair and bright green eyes and jumping into a pile of leaves. He needed nothing to cover himself, while she needed a jacket and a scarf around her shoulders. Summer always awaits the autumn and summer and autumn are always together. They had not always realized this, but they were _JamesandLily _and once they recognized the fact, they were _togetherforever_. Or so they thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They got together when it was autumn, when the influence of summer was fading. Leaves were slowly changing color and fluttering in the wind. The wind blew cool and sweet and sour as it licked their faces, but they paid it no mind. The sky was overcast with a storm on the horizon; they did not notice it as they walked into the Three Broomsticks, where they soon shared their first kiss. It tasted of Butterbeer and chocolate and cinnamon and promises and it was _them_. In the fireplace, a roaring fire crackled behind them, the embers turning hot red before fading into nothingness. They went outside in the cool rain, the water splashing their faces as they danced in the streets. They were going to be _JamesandLily togetherforever_ and this dance and this date would be the first of endless ones to come. Or so they thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

War is more than summer and autumn. War is an inferno, a fiery blaze that burns on throughout all seasons. War had been the background music to all of their Hogwarts years. The death of Flitwick's sister. The mysterious death of Professor Hayes and the odd disappearance of Professor Demens the previous year. Severus and Sirius' brother. The deaths of countless muggles and muggleborns. The fire reared its horrible head when it engulfed Charles Potter and pulled him into its depths; but that happened in the spring and they could not control the spring. Soon came the summer, the end of it all, and it was time to face the fire. Summer could not do it alone and autumn could not exist without summer. But they were _JamesandLily togetherforever_ and they could face the inferno together. Or so they thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was born in the summer, as the seventh month ended. He was on a mission, but he abandoned it for her. The sky was clear and the stars visible, the warm summer breeze tickling his face as he left for St. Mungos. He held her hand as their child entered the world and they watched in amazement as the tiny baby took his first breath of life. Autumn had not given birth to the winter, but rather the spring, and for the first time in so long he remembered what spring was. Hope. The baby's green eyes opened and stared back at them as he gripped her finger and they both shed a tear. It was summer, full of warmth and fun and most of all, danger. That would fade into the growing coldness and colors of autumn, which would turn into the despair and bleakness of the winter. But that would turn to spring, now that he remembered what spring was, hope would blossom, their baby as a beacon of light to guide them through the storm. Because they were _JamesandLilyandHarry togetherforever_ and they could face the rising tempest. Or so they thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

If James was the summer, Lily was autumn, and Harry was spring, then _he_ was winter. He wrought despair and darkness and shorter days on all who crossed its path. They did not expect the winter to come so early in autumn. He opened the door expecting a cool breeze, but it was a fierce wind, a swish of a black coat. _"Lily, you take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!"_ _Peter, why?_ Summer was always filled with such fire and courage, but bravery could only do so much and without his wand, winter easily extinguished summer with all his laughter and bravery and warmth before going after autumn, which always follows summer. Her tears fell freely like leaves as _he_ burst through the door. She begged and pleaded, but autumn always falls to winter and that cool October night was no exception. The light was bright green like new grass and candy apples. But _he _forgot one thing. Winter will always surrender to the spring, and he did so that night. Summer and autumn fell to the mercy of winter because they knew this. They were _JamesandLily togetherforever_ and they renounced the summer and autumn in the hope that spring would prevail. Or so they thought, and it was so.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All that's left of James and Lily, summer and autumn, are shells. The house fell as they did, leaving only spring in its wake, ushering the dawning of a new era. He was the first to stumble upon the house of his fallen friends and he was the first to see the ashes. And as the glasses of his best friend crunched sickeningly beneath his feet, he vowed revenge on all who dared to exterminate the lights that were James and Lily Potter. Whoever's fault this was would burn and he would enjoy seeing their flesh melt and their bodies decay until all that's left was dust. James and Lily; their bodies, their house, their possessions, all destroyed in the inferno of winter's wake, leaving only spring, which he longed for. Because he was Sirius Black and they were _JamesandLily togetherforever_, even in death, and he would protect their son no matter what the cost. Or so he thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Ring around the rosie/pocket full of posies/ashes, ashes, we all fall down._


End file.
